Reasons To Be Missed
by Emmeline Rose
Summary: The sequel to Beauty and the Geek. A therapist goes into his office to see his weekly patient, a strange man who refuses to say why he is there in the first place, to be surprised when the patient opens up about his life. What happened so many years ago?
1. With You, I'd Withstand

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **It is really exciting to be writing the sequel to Beauty and the Geek! It has taken a lot longer than I expected, and I planned to begin this project after the conclusion of Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers, but when inspiration hits, it is against my beliefs as an author to ignore it. This story will shock you, so be prepared with a pillow to muffle squeals! It has been quite a while since we last saw these characters, and a lot has changed. In lesser news, please check my profile for interesting tidbits, links, and news as well as story updates. This chapter is slightly shorter than my new average, but I did not want to put in useless details. Next chapter will be longer. Thanks for everyone who has read Beauty and the Geek. The last time that I checked, it had a count of 54,000 total hits since August! I have learned so much from this story, and it has not only changed my writing style, but my life as well. It gave me confidence, something I have never had before. For once, I knew through your reviews that I was good at something, and it has made all the difference. My goal is to write something to make people, laugh, cry , or think, and that is the best gift I can ever be given. Thank you to you all!

**Reasons To Be Missed**

**Chapter 1- With You, I'd Withstand**

Slowly, I proceeded to my office. The walls that I passed through were cheerful in their yellow coloring, but their viewings held too many troubled spirits to maintain this appearance while the people here held so little cheer. There were the odd cases that were able to work out their problems with very little help, and were generally happy people that only needed a point in the right direction. Sadly, this was not the average person that came for my help.

Most people needed to be pushed toward the proper path, some needed to be metaphorically smacked back into reality, and there were a few that needed to get out of their own way. These clients were those who proved themselves to be the most challenging, the hardest to help partially because of their own egos or fears, who had the most difficult lives, but who were also some of the most intelligent, intriguing, and potentially loving people in existence.

Though they were the least easily, if ever, cured, and that I was not supposed to play favorites, I could not deny to myself that these strange, amazing people were the most interesting to work with. In this broad range of clients, there was one in particular that was the most fascinating. He was so unlike others I had seen, or even heard of from my friends in the same profession as mine. I had become to believe that there was no one else in the world like the person who awaited me in the office down the hall. That was what made him my preferred client. That was also what made him the most difficult.

With clipboard in my hand, I reached for the silver doorknob, and twisted it. Slipping through the white door frame, the man sitting with perfect posture on the couch looked up from the spot on the wall that caught his attention, met my eyes for a moment, then rested the hand that had been on his chin onto his knee.

Softly smiling, I propped my glasses onto my nose and eased myself into the large, leather seat that I called my own. I pulled up my trousers so they would not tighten and tear over my knees, crossed my leg over the other, and set the clipboard on my thigh. Twirling the maroon pen in my fingers, I quickly flipped through the pages beneath the metal clip, and took in the presence of my client.

His hair was messy, as was the norm. He was dressed in a white shirt with long sleeves, and blue jeans. A gray sweat jacket laid crumpled on the couch beside him, next to the thick, wool coat that hung over the armrest, an article of clothing necessary during the fall in Chicago. The pair of shocking, light eyes seemed glazed over, and unfocused.

The difference between this man and most other clients was that he never laid down on the couch, as the others always did. He never spoke of his past with the exception of his parents, and other minute details that he strategically compiled as if he were intentionally blocking out a part of his life. This was not so uncommon, but what was varied was that I didn't know whether this hole was the cause of his problems, or a result of it. I didn't press him about it; I didn't know if he was in fact leaving something important out or not, and it did not seem a priority at the time to uncover his secret, if he even had one.

The strangest part about this man was the fact that although he sought out therapy on his own terms, without even a suggestion by someone close to him, he, for the most part, avoided personal questions. Instead, he would talk extensively about the other aspects of his life in detail, and talking about what he wanted to do in the future and how he would go about doing it. For the most part, he would think aloud to me as he if he was alone. Again, I did not press. Sometimes the best therapy is having someone to listen. That was one of my talents; I was a good listener.

We greeted each other, and began the session.

"So, how has your week been so far?" I asked in habit.

"Good." He answered vaguely. He sat stiffly, with both hands on his knees, and trying to hard to remove the stress that hung in his forehead.

"And business?" I asked.

"Work is good too. I think my boss is really starting to like my work." He answered, with intentional detail.

"As he should. Your music was very good that time you played your piece for me."

"Thank you." He answered, then was quiet again. His eyes traveled to a land far away, and a sheen, glassy appearance came over them. Squinting my eyes behind the half moon spectacles, I ventured into his mind.

"You know that you can say anything to me, right? What you say does not leave this room; it is all in confidence."

"I know, Dr, and I am grateful for that." This man was smart, and knew what I was getting at. He had never acted like this before, especially since nothing new in his life upset him. I was determined to find out what caused this change in spirit and conduct.

"I have known you for a long time, son, and have never seen you act like this. If something upsets you, and you don't want to talk about it, then what is the use of you seeing me?" I asked with a soft, diplomatic voice free from sarcasm or accusation. He shifted his weight on the couch uncomfortably, and ran his hand through his hair. His back aligned with the couch, and leaned over toward the right as he rested his chin on his hand. "Did something happen?"

He paused for a few moments, not knowing what to say. Then, he cracked, and allowed the words to flow.

"Actually something did happen."

"Really? What was it?" I asked slowly, sensing the uneasiness in him.

"Um, well, I sort of...got a call from someone."

"A call? From whom?" My client shifted once more, then wiped the sweat off his pale forehead.

"Uh...I got a call from someone I haven't spoken to in years. One of my friends in high school." I leaned forward with interest, perplexed at this event.

"Wow. You have never spoken about your friends before, or school. How does this make you feel?" I asked the generic question that people in my profession ask when nothing else seems appropriate.

"I-I don't know. I haven't talked with any of my old friends for what, five...six? Yes, six years now."

"Well," I began. "It isn't uncommon that high school friends lose contact after they graduate."

"Yes, but we-we didn't have a falling out. We all had this fight, and it was sort of...catastrophic."

"We all?" I asked, not seeing the full picture.

"I really haven't told you anything about them, have I?" He asked, realizing my confusion.

"No. You haven't." I answered. "You should be happy that they called you; it's a sign of apology."

"Maybe." He said. "But it is so much more complicated. There is a lot of...history, to say the least."

"Of course. Many relationships are complicated, friendly or romantic. When.." I tried to think of what to call this person. "who was it that called you?" I asked, scratching my head of thinning salt and pepper colored hair.

"Well, I would have to tell you everything that happened before I do, seeing as you wouldn't understand otherwise."

"If you want to, I am listening." I offered. He ran his hand through his hair again, and shook his head anxiously.

"I don't really feel like talking about it, if that is alright, Dr." He said.

"Of course. Are you comfortable telling me about the phone call?"

"That seems harmless. Well, my friend called me on Tuesday out of the blue, and started by asking how I was." His eyes fell to the plush, white carpet, and shook his head slightly. "Sounds so different than last time we spoke. Older. More mature. Even so, I could still recognize who it was once I heard them speak. But god, it has been a while."

Was it a smile I saw on his face? Or was it my imagination? It was probably the latter, considering his voice inflection.

"Did he or she have any particular reason to call?" I asked.

"Yes. No, I mean sort of. They want to have lunch with me on Saturday." I glanced at the calendar. Today was listed under the column of Thursdays. He had little time to decide what to do.

"And what did you say?"

"I told them I would."

"Didn't you say that you went to high school in your hometown?"

"Yes, back in Forks. Yeah, they just moved here a few months ago, and found out I lived here too."

"I see. So is the lunch with this person only, or with however many people you were friends with?"

"Just this one."

"Are you considering talking to the rest?"

"It is really complicated."

"I know that. I think it would be good for you though. You are a very detached man, Edward."

"There is good reason for it, trust me. By complicated, I mean really, really complicated. It's hard to explain to someone who wasn't there."

"You could tell me about what happened. We have plenty of time here, and it seems that you have little else to talk about."

Edward pondered this for a moment, and blurted out.

"It was just so messy! So..so...I don't even know what! They were my friends, my best, best friends, we were so close, and all the sudden it was as if we meant nothing to each other! Like nothing even mattered! It was always the six of us, my best friends, one of them my ex-girlfriend. I-I...oh god, so much..." His head fell into his hands, his fingers knotted his dark hair, and his anguish poured out. He had never released so much, or had ever broken down, no less as much as he did. Tears seeped out of the corner of his eyes, and his shoulders shook.

I had never had children, but I had never felt so fatherly as I did just then. I walked over, sat next to Edward, and patted his shoulder, trying to make sense of his cryptic message.

"You...what so much?" I asked, yet heard no answer. Instead, his kept sobbing, then suddenly stopped. He smacked his curled fists on the couch, his blood boiling through the veins that stood out against his pale skin. His chin was raised, his eyes squeezed shut, and his jaws grinding against each other. Sniffing deeply, he composed himself.

I returned to my chair, and gave him a few moments to pull himself together. He returned his features to the way they were before, and even composed his speech. After five minutes, it was as if nothing had happened. In a cool, calm voice, he began his tale.

"We all became friends in a very unconventional way, that was for sure. It was my sophomore year in high school when I met Jasper Whitlock. Let's just say we were not at the top of the social ladder. We were friends almost instantaneously, and we were always together. We were made fun of, but it wasn't as bad now that we each had a friend. A few months later our tolerance ended. This guy, Emmett Tucker, the quarterback and school bully, got pissed at us. It was all a misunderstanding in the end, but I ended up with a broken nose, and Jasper was close to having a concussion. Emmett thought that Jasper was staring at his girlfriend, Rosalie, but he was really staring at Alice. I will clarify later.

Anyway, he was really protective of her. He punched me in the face, then slammed Jasper against a row of lockers. I had to take him to the hospital to see my dad, who's a doctor. My parents worried incesantly about me; they weren't stupid, they knew something was wrong.

After that, we decided to change, our appearances at least. His mom was a stylist, and helped us out, weird as it may seem. I was so scared that nothing would change, that I was truly ugly, inside and out, and it would only prove that I had no potential. Jasper forced me to go, saying we had nothing to lose. He was right. His mom took us to Seattle for a weekend and made us over. After that, we were never beaten up again. In fact, we were admired.

We worked out over the summer, I fell through a window, got new clothes, cut my hair, and got contact lenses. Somehow, my outer shell changed my mentality. I was confident, something I had never been before, and I loathed the Three Witches, as we called them. Nothing was worse in my eyes than those three girls, and I was determined to give them what they deserved; nothing.

Throughout tenth grade, Jasper had this massive crush on this girl named Alice Brandon. She was in the group of popular girls consisting of Alice, and her friends Rosalie Hale and Bella Swan. They were not nice at all; typical snobs. They were the witches.

Jasper was turned to mush by her, and was utterly helpless at the mention of her name. It was just as if he had known her all his life. If love at first sight existed, he certainly experienced it.

One day, Rosalie found out that Jasper and I were the kids beaten up by Emmett, her on and off boyfriend of the time. You see, we hadn't told anybody that we were the dweebs that Tucker left on the floor. No one recognized us, no one cared what happened to the dweebs. We had led people to believe that we were new students from Houston, where Jasper was originally from. She ended up apologizing to me about another small misunderstanding, and we became friends after that.

Earlier that week, I was walking through the school parking lot when I overheard her talking to Emmett. He mentioned something about Bella, Rosalie, and Alice laughing when Jasper and I were beaten up. She ended up coming to my house, and apologizing, while also telling me the truth about what happened. It turned out that neither she, nor her friends were even comfortable with what he did. And not just because Emmett was suspended, but because they thought it was wrong.

I ended up helping her keep her relationship with Emmett. He needed her to change before they continued dating. She was a superficial bitch, and was tired of it. Since she knew that I had changed, she asked me to help her. Of course, I tried to help her, and it worked. They were in love back then, but were so mean to each other it was no wonder they were having issues.

Anyway, I hated Bella before, and after the clarification from Rosalie, I was alright with her. We had the same Biology class, and we ended up talking. I ended up liking her. Liking her a lot, enough so there weren't appropriate words to explain it. Not love, not a crush, but somewhere in between.

It turns out Bella realized she needed to change as well. Her dad told her off, and she admitted her mistakes. She turned out to be this really unique, interesting person. She was unlike anyone I had ever met before, or after.

Anyway, one day I was driving behind Bella and her dad after they invited me over for dinner, and it was raining. Really raining. The roads were wet, and it was dark. We took a wrong turn, and ended up going down a mountain. That's when Bella's dad's brakes went out. They couldn't stop, and ended up flipping a few times over the rail at a turn, and rolled down the side. Her dad broke a few ribs, but Bella was in a coma by the time they got her to the hospital.

My dad is a doctor, and was working that night. She was in a coma for a few days. I couldn't eat, couldn't drink, couldn't sleep. I called Jasper from the hospital, and eventually Rosalie, Alice, Jasper, and even Emmett was there. My heart was broken. During those days, I fell in love with her. It was fast, but life is expedited, as well as emotions, when tragedy like that strikes. When she was asleep, I couldn't function. I realized then that life without her was like not having any life at all. On her last day of being asleep, she went into cardiac arrest. They stopped trying to resuscitate her, and I started preforming CPR. Nothing worked. I kissed her for the first time, and for the last time I thought, when she woke up. It was a miracle she woke up at all.

There was a miracle in everything that made us friends; all of the circumstances were so strange, so much like a movie or book. I have summarized it so much that maybe you can't completely understand, but our bonds were not just romantic. Sure, we became a group of three couples, but we were all friends. Every one of us, even Emmett and I, and Jasper and Emmett. We had all gone through so much that we all were so close. Most people have one really, really great friend in their lifetime. I had five. It was strange, but despite all of the terrible things we went through, high school was the best time of my life because of them. It is the worst feeling in the world to know the best years of your life are over. It hurts worse than anything."

His story touched me, and his pain could be felt in my bones. So this was what made Edward the man that he was. Trying to make my lips form words, I found what I wanted to say.

"Wow. That is a lot to go through as a teen. How is it that you all were so close, and yet you haven't spoken to them in years?" I asked hesitantly. It truly must have been a terrible ending for such seemingly cemented bonds to be released, and broken. It amazed me that one person could go through so much, and not have scars on his wrist, a liver weakened by large amounts of alcohol, or loss of brain cells from drug usage. Maybe this pain was too intense for these so called remedies.

"It was a bad ending. Really bad. When I think about it, I can't believe it happened either, that is until I remember how it came about." He sighed, and continued. "It began when Jasper moved away."


	2. Lies and Promises

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** After the vertical line, the story shifts into Edward telling about what happened. It is not in his point of view, but rather what he is telling the therapist without having to use all of those quotation marks. Also, those of who are also reading Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers, fear not, there will be updates, but will alternate between this story's chapters as well. Thanks for reading!

**Reasons To Be Missed**

**Chapter 2- Lies and Promises**

Edward sank back into the couch, mentally preparing himself fr the tale I presumed. It had been made clear to me, not only through his words but body language as well, that this story was one of painful memories that he normally wished not to dwell on. With pen in hand, I began my notes. Before his words began to flow, I scribbled a brief description of the conversation that had led to what I considered to be a breakthrough in his mental rehabilitation. And although this was inspired by the phone call that he received out of random, he had agreed to talk about it.

This could very well be the link to his past, the link to a healthy mind and sociability that he had explained to me in previous sessions that he wanted, but felt incapable of having for reasons he would not elaborate upon. Without a doubt in my mind, this had to be the disturbance that gave him nightmares, or no sleep at all, the disturbance that had given him a somewhat solitary existence with only acquaintances, not allowing himself to bond deeply with another person. He was without a true, lasting friendship, something that he implied was essential to his being. No more did he search for love than for friendship, and my intuition told me that he and this Bella woman he spoke of, his ex-girlfriend, was something more than just a high school sweetheart; they had something more, a lot more, and he ached for it to be present in his life once again.

My pen was dragged across my legal pad, the blue ink contrasting with the yellow pages. Through my hand words formed, and my theories were drawn onto the paper.

_**Name: **Edward Cullen_

_**Sex: **Male_

_**Age : **24_

_**Occupation: **Composer for Summit Entertainment_

_**History of Medications: **Was on anti-depressants when he first came to me four years ago, was taken off of them one year later._

_**History of mental illnesses:** None, short history of depression with no intention of suicide_

_**Family:** Only child, close with mother and father who live in Forks, Washington_

_**Reason for seeking therapy:** Unknown, presumed to be the previous loss of extremely close friends and girl who he might have loved in high school, detrimental to his mental health _

Edward turned, and for the first time stretched out along the couch, laying his head on the pillow beside the armrest. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and told me of his life.

"At first it was really...really great. After Bella woke up from her coma, everything started to piece itself back together. Only a few days after she was walking around, was eating and drinking normally, and even had her color back. Of course, the hospital had to keep her there for a while for observation, but with my dad being one of her doctor the visiting hours were stretched a little. Those days were so strange, so wonderful because we were finally together, but so abnormal that it felt like it never even happened."

"What went on during those two weeks, Edward?"

"Where do I even begin? So many things happened."

"Just start at the beginning."

"The beginning. Alright. Well, after Bella woke up, they had to run all these tests which took hours. No one was allowed to be with her during them, except for her father of course. Basically I spent the days pacing around her room with Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice. I was a wreck, as you can imagine.

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"Edward, please, walking holes in the floor isn't going to make the time go by faster. She's going to be okay, trust me." Rosalie said as she sat on the bed beside Emmett. She leaned her head on his shoulder, looking completely disheveled. She hadn't washed her hair in a couple days, and had it tied up in a messy knot on her head. Wearing no make up, she looked bare, pretty, but just different than the other times that I had seen her. Dark circles framed her eyes, as they did with the rest of us as well. The florescent lights cast these strange, artificial shadows over us that made our skin look pallid and sick.

The small room could easily be crossed in only a few steps, and would not suffice for pacing, though I couldn't bear to leave the room where she would return to.

"She's right, Edward. You have to keep yourself together for her, if not for you." Jasper said from the corner he was leaning in. Alice sat by his legs in a chair with her knees to her chest, making her appear smaller than she already was. Her eyes followed me back and forth across the room, looking as if she was trying to decode something, although I wasn't sure what it was. Jasper, Rosalie and I had told our story to the others, even Emmett.

Though we disassociated ourselves with Emmett, Jasper and I had stopped trying to keep on the opposite side of the space from. The murderous glare we remembered had not once returned, and we were, for the most part, convinced that we would not see it again.

"I know you are trying to help, but there's nothing you can say to help me." I whispered softly, and without insult. Suddenly, the room began to shrink around me, and claustrophobia tightened my chest. My blood began to race through my veins, and it became evident that I needed some fresh air. Though I did not want to go outside the hospital in case Bella came back, I decided that if I stood outside the room, and leaned against the wall that I would have sufficient breathing room and still see the girl that I loved without delay.

Closing my eyes, I breathed in the sterile air, calming myself with the medical scents. With my father having worked here since I was young, he always retained this sort of smell that had the essence of the hospital without the creepiness of knowing that people died there.

I heard the door open to my right, and opened my eyes to see Emmett walking toward me. The sight of him still intimidating to me, I inched away subtly. For a moment we stood in silence, while I cringed at what his purpose was.

"Edward? I kind of wanted to talk to you about something."

"What about?" My voice was raspy with the lack of sleep, and I spoke slowly with the difficulty I had in concentrating, even on what I wanted to say.

"About...about what happened." This was what I dreaded.

"About how you bashed my face in and nearly gave Jasper a hole in his head?" He jerked his head away from me, seeming disturbed by my words. It was my full intention.

"Well, yes. I just – I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am..."

"Emmett, you don't have to..."

"Yes." He said as he walked in front of me. "Yes I do. I can't tell you how guilty I have felt, and maybe I can never make you understand, but I can't let you think that I wouldn't give anything to be able to take it back."

"You can never take it back." I said menacingly. Emmett was quiet for a moment, and then spoke softly as I had before.

"When I –– what did I do to you?" He asked solemnly, averting his eyes from mine to the ground.

"Why d'you care?" I asked absentmindedly.

:"I just wanted to know if I hurt you...I mean really hurt you."

"You 'just wanted to know'?" My rage began to boil within my veins, my palms curled into fists. I pushed myself from the wall and craned my neck to be even with Emmett's. "Fine. Want to know what you did? You broke my nose and nearly broke my cheekbone you son of a bitch! And you nearly knocked Jasper into a vegetative state!" Emmett's dark eyes widened, and he pressed himself to the wall to widen the gap between the two of us. Imagine me intimidating Emmett Tucker! "But that was only the physical pain. You humiliated us! In front of everyone! All because you were too much of a brute to consider that you might be wrong!"

Silence over came us, and the mammoth man beside me crossed his arms across his bulky chest, making the muscles bulge out of his arms as if there weren't enough skin to cover them. Hanging his head he spoke again.

"I know there probably isn't anything I can do or say, maybe not now, maybe not ever but I can't let things stay the way they are. Other than Rosalie, or like, the safety of the world I would give anything to take it back, or to make it up to you, or both." I turned to face him, wishing I could have been a few inches taller so as I might be able to compete with his height. Height was an intimidation factor; I knew. Not because of others being intimidated by me, but rather by the likes of which scared me. Including Emmett. Simply because I had a good, personal reason to loathe Emmett Tucker, and to consider him a first-rate jackass did not mean that he still could not punch the lights out of me. The only difference there would be was the lack of broken glasses.

"Do you seriously believe that you are in the position to ask me to _forgive_ you? Are you kidding me?" Reminding myself of where I was, I tried to keep control of my voice, the volume of it mostly. To be truthful, I didn't give a crap what anyone heard me say. What I did care about was who, and my father was nowhere to be seen. I expected Emmett to go off and sulk, or to send his fist into my temple and finish the job, but instead I found that he did something entirely different. Something logical, mature even.

"I am not asking you to forgive me. You shouldn't. I am asking you to believe me." For the first time, he looked deeply into my eyes, revealing a widening pool of thought into his dark irises. His face was stern, troubled, weak and yet secure in what he said all at the same moment. His posture was straight, but something within him, something he did not attempt to shield from the world, was crumbling away. It was like a diamond hidden within a large, chalky capsule that fizzed away in a glass of water. As the particles dissolved, the sudden uprise of bubbles clouded the water for a moment, fogging up all reality into distortion, until the moment came when the fizz cleared, and the diamond lay unobstructed at the bottom of the glass. Sparkling, silent, hard. Rare.

Was there something to be liked about this man? This man who I had once thought, most likely with accuracy in my prejudice, had the mentality of a two-year old who drank coffee and sugar, and the emotion of telephone pole, had become someone that no longer intimidated me in size. He intimidated me in thought.

Guilt overwhelmed me. I tried to convince myself that this was completely illogical for me, being that it was he that was rightfully ashamed, but I could not help but think that I had been overly cruel. That was a trait of mine that I wished I left behind in that salon so long ago with those few inches of hair and miserable clothing. It was the one thing I could not shed; my pigheadedness, and more importantly, my anger.

Maybe it would get better as Bella recovered, and we all became normal again. Maybe.

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"Of course, that would be the thing to bite me in the ass later on, pardon my French. Sometimes I can't help but think that if I had learned to cool my temper that things wouldn't have been _as_ bad."

As I absorbed this conversation replayed for me, I was shaken awake by the possibility of yet another breakthrough in his reclusive personality.

"Do you still feel this rage, Edward?" I asked my client. He let a small, breathy chuckle escape his lips, but not in the joking way it would be assumed to be in. It was a dark laugh, brought on by what I assumed to be yet another memory.

"Yes." I looked at him skeptically. Edward Cullen had always been a man of reason, and for him to act on impulse was a reaction relatively unknown to me. Yet seeing as this habit was not one of which to be proud, I had no reason to believe otherwise. I also have never seen this man with any passion in his soul, the fuel which ignites the raging fire. He had been dormant so long within himself, no flame had been released to burn. I don't believe I ever felt my heart break as it did back then, and my childhood could easily compete with those of some of my highest prioritized clients. It was because I assumed that this pain was dealt to me to help others, and I forgave the world for that, but for Edward, it seemed complete torture. He was a good man. He always was, and still was somewhere deep beneath the layers of scar tissue around his heart.

"Don't sign me up for anger management classes just yet, Dr. Schtefensen. I have it under control."

"Well, that is good to hear. So, Emmett asked you to believe that he never wanted to hurt you, but did not except forgiveness?":

"That's right."

"Did you forgive him anyway?" I asked, genuinely interested in his story; it was unlike any other I had seen before. It could be a novel with all of its complexity, most of which I did not even know.

"Not to him, not at first. I kind of forgave him a little while after he talked to me, once I stopped denying it. I wanted to hate him, I did, but I couldn't. I don't even know what it was, but it did not seem unreasonable to do so. My heart believed him, and that was good enough for me. Besides, I knew Rosalie would keep him on a tight leash. She could only change so much, and I knew she would continue to sort of keep charge. I think that was what attracted him to her – her strength. Let's just say she would not allow anyone other than a professional masseuse walk over her, and even then, she made them earn their tips."

"That is a very healthy thing to do in those sorts of circumstances. Do you believe in second chances?" I asked him. He sat there for a moment, deciding on his answer.

"Not anymore. Second chances are one thing, but once those are spent, it is almost impossible to grant them to anyone else, no matter what the trouble was. I used to believe in second chances, hell, I _was_ a walking second chance. But second chances turned into thirds, and fourths were when I drew the line. No more." His smile faded, and his solemnity returned to him. I had forgotten how sallow and pallid his face became in his depression. I realized just then, that even speaking of his emotional trials so many years ago, his face lightened up, and some color returned to his cheeks.

Now as he laid there, his expression brittled by the gnawing at his soul, I felt as if he were a time bomb. Come to think of it, he had made no progress in stability, and he was withering inside. Edward needed to be fixed, and he needed to be fixed soon.

"But you did forgive him; you must have believed him deep down." I stated.

"I did. It took me a little while to realize it, but I did."

"What happened after you talked to Emmett?"

"Bella came back, and everything seemed so much clearer now that she was in the room again, in my sight again...

Emmett walked back inside the room to sit beside his Rosalie once more, while I remained outside. I did not care to see the bed sheets flat without Bella asleep between them, to see the pillows empty with only the curved indentation of where her head had been laid, to see the monitors turned off, but most painful of all, not to see the gentle rise of her chest and shoulders while she slept, or to hear her mumble in her slumber.

At the far end of the hallway, a gurney was being wheeled around the corner, thick, mohagony hair dripping over the side. An IV bag hung at the head of the metallic pole that always reminded me of a sick, medicinal coat hook. I withdrew my hands from my pockets, and walked beside the moving bed.

My father strode slowly beside the two doctors maneuvering the vehicle, and did not protest as I caught up to their paces.

"Bella?" I asked, wondering if she was still awake. She had been exhausted since she woke up, and rightfully so. Her tired eyes slowly rolled toward mine, and a wide smile spread across her face that was still fighting for color to return to it. I could not help when my lips twinged and stretched, knowing that she remembered that I was waiting for her.

"Edward." She murmured softly, ending the word with a contented sigh, as if my name brought her joy to simply speak it. If only she knew what hers did to me – it made me feel as if no one else existed, the world was only there for her and I to love each other.

"Hey." I said, the grin cheering the sound of my voice. "How are you?" I asked with a serious tone.

"Fine." She replied without breaking our gaze. Quickly, I looked to Carlisle and asked him if she was truly alright. I knew her well enough to know her stubbornness, and her selflessness. Annoying as it was, I loved every part of her, including the irritating qualities, everything.

Carlisle chuckled, and answered. "Yes, as far as we can tell there is nothing wrong. The CT-Scan was normal, x-rays, MRI's, everything was normal. Her body is healing, and as long as everything progresses the way it should, and I think that it will, with some sleep and a little bit of rehabilitation, it will be as if nothing ever happened."

"Except for the stupid scar" Bella said, grimacing, as she touched her hand that was free from an IV to the pile of gauze on her forehead that matched the site of my stitches.

"Well, at least we will have matching stupid scars." I said, hoping to take her mind off of the insignificance of a scar, yet doing anything to make her laugh. I realized then and there that I was obsessed, and there was nothing that could change that, and for that I was thankful. I could not imagine life any other way.

"Edward, son, could you hold the door open for us?" Carlisle inquired as we approached her room. I complied, and Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper cleared the way for us. The doctors, with a little of my help, lifted her off of the gurney, and set her gently on the bed. On Bella's command, they were extra wary of the various tubes leading into her veins.

She wakes up from a coma, and all she cares about is a scar and an IV. Typical Bella.

Rosalie and Alice rushed to her side, Emmett stayed at a respectful distance but shared his expression of concern, though when Jasper caught sight of a drop of blood on a bandage of hers he shyly strayed to the back corner. Pulling a chair beside her bed, my finger grazed over her free hand, silently telling her about my affection for her.

Bella went into her tale of the different machinery, and how she felt fine with the exception of fatigue, and as her eyes were locked on Rosalie or Alice's, I looked toward Jasper. His oceanic eyes were widened, his fingers turning white with his curled fists. I kissed my love on her hand, and quickly walked over to my friend whilst she was occupied with hers.

"Jazz, what's up with you? You're being weird." He shifted his weight, and his pale complexion seemed to wash him into the wall behind him.

"I'm not good with blood."

"What do you mean? No one likes blood, unless you're a vampire bat or something, but what's the big deal?"

"No, Edward, I mean I am _really _not good with blood." I looked at him with a strange expression on my face, trying to decode the hidden meaning. His hands knotted nervously in his hair, turning his face away from me.

"Alright. Just keep yourself together. She'll understand." He was halfway out the door shortly after I began. Bella seemed not to mind, and sympathizing. I was surprised she hadn't yet fainted at her own blood.

Striding back over to her bedside, I sat on my knees on the white laminate floor, and stared into her bottomless eyes that seemed like wells of everything that was my life, contained in two circular beings.

"You both have something in common." I declared, explaining Jasper's sudden absence.

"Ah. I don't blame him." She replied. We had not yet done blood typing in Biology, and would not until second semester, but she did not seem like the sort who dealt with it well. A nurse came in the door, a needle held in her palm. Bella's eyes widened at the long, thin point, her face paling with the expectation of yet another skin-deep prick.

The woman, upon seeing her reaction, quickly explained herself.

"Don't worry dear, not for you, for the tube. It will make you sleep." She sighed, but was then distressed once more.

"No, I don't want to sleep anymore. I just woke up, I want to be awake for –– for my friends..."

"Shh, dear. Your painkillers will be wearing off soon, and it is better that you sleep through it rather than being pounded with morphine. You will have plenty of time with your friends, don't worry."

"You need to rest Bella." I said, though I wished as much as she did that she would remain awake. Seeing her eyelids flutter and the gentle movements of her arms and fingers was enough to make my head fuzzy. Every time she twitched or stirred, it only assured me more that she was alive, living on her own power, on her own will. Still, I knew what was best for her, and that was sleep.

"Edward..."

"Please, listen. She's right. Don't worry, I won't leave you. I will be right here when you wake up."

Bella smiled, knowing that I would never lie to her. Only then my stomach sank. I _had_ lied to her. I was lying to her right then. She didn't even know who I was, or rather who I had been. It was strange, but at the same time, it felt like she knew me better than I did. She couldn't...could she? _Did_ she? Could I wait to ask her before she awoke from her medicinally-induced slumber? Could I even ask her when she did? I could not wait to see her awake again, as the nurse injected the white liquid into her IV whilst I stroked her hand, but at the same time I dreaded having to tell her how I had deceived her. It was so unfair, to both of us.

"Promise?"Bella asked.

"I promise to stay, if you promise to come back." She smiled, and said,

"I promise." And with those words, the beauty of her eyes were obscured by her falling lids, her head lolled to the side, and her hand collapsed into mine.


	3. Life Goes On

**Disclaimer- **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note-** Hi! It has been a while since I last updated this story, as well as my other work in progress Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers, but I do plan to continue updating these stories, even if it takes me a month or two to do so. `Hopefully this summer I will have more frequent updates. Also, check out my account on under the pen name Juliett Dawson. Thanks, and happy reading!

**Reasons To Be Missed**

**Chapter 3- Life Goes On**

Sitting silently, statically, I found it hard to piece together what I had just heard. So much that made this man who he was today had just been laid before me, the shattered pieces of a broken heart, and I had come to find that I knew not what to do with them. Of course, there was still much to be learned, more to be told and more to be listened to, however, there was already so much information that had to simply be left to lay in the open until a time would come when it would be possible to dust off the cobwebs and be revived. Much like Edward.

Misery reeked from his shut eyes, the dark circles beneath them seeming darker and more prominent than before. It was moments like these that made me think of my wife, two children, and granddaughter, and what I would do if I suddenly was without them.

All I could see in those bleak fantasies were visions of regret, grief, and self-loathing to the point where it physically sickened me, even now, when I knew that my wife was at home, searching for a dinner recipe for that evening, that my son was probably working in his fancy suit and tie, that my daughter Sarah, and her daughter Lily, were most likely watching re-runs of 'I Love Lucy' or playing Monopoly. I knew perfectly well that they were all there, as they always have been, but the prospect that one day they might not be gave me an instantaneous sympathy for Edward Cullen.

I did not, however, have any idea how to help him. So I did all I could. I listened.

"Is that clock correct?" He asked me as his eyes found the hanging clock on the wall.

"Yes, I believe it is." I answered, clearing my throat and propping my glasses back on my nose. "Well, we are only a couple minutes over time... I hope you aren't late for anything..."

"No." He answered as he steadied his voice. "I just need to get to work." He stood, and went hesitantly to shake y hand as he did every session.

"Well, I believe this is good progress. It may not feel that way right now, but you will start to feel better."

"I hope so." Edward answered with a disdainful grouchiness rumbling through his throat. Pausing, he turned to me and asked with his eyes looking down to the floor what he should do about the phone call.

"I can't tell you that, Mr. Cullen. Only you can tell yourself what to do."

"But if you were in my situation – I just, I don't know, this is just so cliché, but I feel so – lost."

Putting my hand on his shoulder, I looked into his eyes which were now beginning to sparkle with intimate confusion and spoke the only words I could think of that could possibly apply. "You have already lost these people once, causing irrevocable pain for years on end. It has severely interfered, keeping you from a normal life, keeping you from moving forward with what you want to do, how you want to live. Do you want to regain what you lost? Or do you want to try to move past it? It is your decision only. The answer is a lot simpler than it may seem."

Thinking, Edward leaned against the door frame and sighed heavily. "Is there any possibility that I could come again soon? Before next week?"

"Of course. How soon do you want to come back?"

"Does tomorrow sound desperate?"

"No." I answered truthfully. "You could even come back around four o'clock if you wanted to." I continued, half-joking, assuming that he would live under the reign of his stubborn pride and reject the offer.

"If that is alright with you, that sounds appealing actually." Not showing my surprise, I agreed and marked a note in my schedule. "Thank you Dr."

"I will see you tonight, Mr. Cullen."

After I finished jotting down the rest of my notes for the session, as well as my last-minute observations that suddenly came back to my memory, then sat back into my chair and tried to remember the different people he had spoken about. There was Jasper, his best, and from what I understood his first friend, with the golden hair and strange way of carrying himself. There was Alice, the girl who his friend had loved since the moment he laid eyes on her.

There was Rosalie, who had reached out to him in a time when she knew she had done something wrong, and had a duty to make things right. There was the man she loved, the same man who had beaten Edward and Jasper nearly to a pulp.

Then there was Bella. In truth, I knew very little about Bella, yet I felt as if I knew how important she was to Edward without ever having seen them together.

Life works in such mysterious ways. It can never be understood, predicted, estimated, or calculated. It can only be studied, be awed, and rightfully so. There was too much of the unknown to assume that he can justify why certain things happen, and why certain things do not. All any of us could do was wait for what was to happen, and hope that we have the strength to overcome whatever it may bring.

_4:00 the same day..._

Edward entered the room as he had earlier that day. His head was hung, his face pallid with destitution. Moving silently across the floor space, he found his previous seat on the leather couch, laid down atop it with a swift swivel, and folded his hands across his chest. Watching him, I brushed off the remaining crumbs from my afternoon sandwich, and took out my pen and notepad.

"Are you doing better, Mr. Cullen?"

"Not really."

"Well then. Shall we get started?"

"Where did I leave off again?"

"I believe...Bella had just fallen asleep after you refused Emmett's apology..."

"Right. Well, Bella did wake up the next morning. Of course I did not sleep at all, understandably, but after that morning it was like the world rotated, reversed, or flip-flopped or something. It felt so different, so..._welcoming_. It wasn't even close to being perfect, actually there were so many different problems I am surprised we handled it as well as we did. But we did handle the situation, we held onto each other through it, and I believe that made all the difference, as corny as it sounds. That morning was sort of the turning point of it all...

* * *

I was sitting there alone, next to Bella's bed as was the usual, next to the wires and circuits and monitors that beeped throughout the night. I wondered how the patients found sleep amid the pestering blips, and that made my worries all the more severe. There was always a significant chance that the first night she slept she would never wake up again, and unlike before I doubted that any sort of miracle could revive her. I believed in only one miracle per lifetime, and it had already been spent on the most worthy cause I could fathom.

But she did wake up. The second time I watched her eyes flutter open was like seeing for the first time. It was how I imagined being born must have felt like, inhaling fresh air and all at once having so much to take in. An entire world being hurled before new eyes, a new sort of existence present in one fleeting moment that would forever change someone's outlook. Nothing would be the same, and to this day I am still unsure if it was for the better or worse.

"Hey." I said as her eyes met mine. Her arms raised above her head in straight angles, her smile stretching as far as her limbs. Her hair was wild and curly beneath her head, and I could almost feel the antsy-feelings within her legs. She was never an athletic person, that was for sure, but that did not make her any more a couch potato by nature.

"Hey yourself." She replied. "What time is it?"

"About eight in the morning. Friday."

"Wow." She groaned. "And you're still here? How long have you been waiting?"

"Not too long. Only the night."

"When was the last time you slept?"

"You don't have to worry about me, Bella. Just worry about making yourself healthy, alright?" I asked of her, tucking a lock of her thick hair behind her ear. Her eyes followed my hand as it nearly touched her cheek, then followed up my arm and then back to my eyes. Suddenly feeling the heaviness of my eyelids, I blinked, trying to relieve the tiredness that I had evaded for days with little effect.

"But – you look awful." I laughed, causing her to blush faintly. "I didn't mean it like that..."

"I know. But at least you are getting your color back." I chuckled, making her blush with even more severity. A doctor whisked past us at that moment, checking her chart, then the various electronic graphs that bleeped on the monitors.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I am going to have to ask you to leave." the doctor said kindly, faking a smile for our sake. I turned, thanked her, and after saying goodbye, I slowly strode out of the hospital room, nearly walking into my father.

"Dad." I said, rubbing my eyes which suddenly felt leaden and tired.

"Edward, you need your sleep. Doctor's orders. "

"Please, just let me know how she is first..."

"These tests take longer than you think, they are run on a day-to-day basis after a coma patient wakes up for as long as we determine necessary. If you aren't going to go home and take care of yourself _now_, when do you plan on doing so? Just so I can tell your mother when to expect you home for dinner."

The thought that shamed me from the core had never before made itself present in my mind until that moment. I thought about being there for Bella. I thought about sacrificing myself – or on the more accurate, less-dramatic side sacrificing my hygiene, for her. I thought about my father who seemed to be getting in the way, who made himself present at times that I looked and felt my worst. I never thought about my mother.

My mother who was still at home, whose husband had been working seventy-two hour shifts, whose son had not even bothered to call during that time. She was never a worrier, my mother, but the only way I envisioned her existing at that moment was sitting on the couch, paying no attention to the blaring TV, eyes dry but pink and puffy, her emotions ranging from heartbroken to raging with anger. Thought I was the first person who wished to remain at the hospital, where I felt I was most needed, I would be the first to admit that I was needed most at home.

Looking up at the man before me who gazed back with all-knowing eyes, without words spoken between us we knew he had won over my pride.

"Go. Tell her you will see her tomorrow." He said, motioning for the door, and gesturing for the female doctor inside. After giving him a quick smile, I went back to Bella's bedside.

"Back already?" She joked.

"I just wanted to tell you that I think you, along with my dad, are right. I'm going to go home, clean up, get caught up on schoolwork, sleep. But I will be back first thing tomorrow to check in with you."

Bella smiled, happy that she finally saw me come to my senses. Sitting up in her bed, flushing as she pulled her wild hair behind her, she said "Now I have one less thing I have to worry about."

"You aren't the one who needs to worry, Bella..." I was silenced by an unforgiving yawn. She giggled.

"Apparently I do."

"Well, you won't for much longer." I kissed her softly on her free hand. "Call me tomorrow and tell me if there is something I can bring you, alright?"

"If you insist." Bella replied, beaming. As I reached the door to her room, she quickly stopped me. "Edward!" I leaned back so that my head was through the door frame. "I don't have your number."

We both began laughing, perhaps more than the pathetic humor should have allowed. I wrote down my phone number on the notepad beside her hospital bed, and with a prolonged kiss on the chick, left the room without us taking our eyes off of the other.

Too tired to drive myself, I began the half-hour walk back home. With my father working in the hospital and all of my friends finishing up the school week, the only person left who could possibly drive me home was my mother, and I did not want to bother her any more than I already had.

Taking the usual route home that had not been so usual since the purchase of my silver Volvo, the whereabouts of which were unknown to me, I walked through the gray shadows of light that poured from the canopy of trees, a sight I had forgotten about. Sooner than I had expected, the aging, white mansion was visible up ahead, past the creek which slowly whittled away at the rocks that formed its bottom.

Not wanting to startle my mother, I made no attempt to make light my strides as I stepped across the creaking wooden porch. Knocking softly on the door, I heard a click of the TV from inside and a familiar stride walk hastily to the door.

"I'm sorry I didn't come home sooner..." I began as she hugged me tightly, then recoiling as she saw the state I was in, dirt from the hillside still visible on my forehead.

"You're right. But that doesn't' matter right now, you need to get yourself cleaned up. What do you want to eat, hm?"

The next day, as promised, I went back to the hospital to check on Bella. As she requested, I brought her her schoolwork, ironically nearly identical to mine being that we had almost all of the same classes, and her father brought her the rest of the clothes and other things that she wanted from home. She appeared even healthier than the day before, and even more beautiful.

After her father, and a long phone call with her mother, Bella asked me to come into her room.

"I got you your books. All of the assignments are written down here." I said as I handed her the sheet of paper.

Smiling, she thanked me, and asked me to sit down. We talked for what seemed like an eternity, for what was only an hour on the clock. We would not have paused if it wasn't for my father dragging me out of the room. Figuratively, of course.

"Come on, Edward. Let Bella do her work, just like you need to." Looking at him with pleading eyes, I asked .

"Can't I stay a little longer?" My father was unrelenting, but he did however, agree to letting me work in the waiting room once I got my own work from home. On my way out, I hung back once more.

"Dad? Um, this seems like a really, really bad time, but...what happened to my car?" He chuckled.

"Don't worry, we had it towed. It's back in the garage at home, safe and sound. I am surprised you didn't ask about it earlier, actually."

"Well, I was concerned about something else." I said, giving Bella a quick goodbye wink. Blushing violently, she smiled and whispered a faint goodbye. Without her or my father knowing, I walked outside the hall, but continued to look through the blind of the window to her room. I watched as my father checked all of the routine machines and charts, and then as Bella reluctantly opened her books as she glanced at the assignment page.

Grinning with anticipation, I watched the surprise in her eyes grow as she found loose sheets of paper wedged between certain pages of the different textbooks. Knowing how organized she was, all of her homework was secured safely inside notebooks and binders. As she tilted the book subtly away from the doctor beside her, she gazed across the countless sheets of paper in awe. Nearly a full school week's worth of work was completed before her, not in a different hand than her own, but in clear, printed type.

Shutting the book closed, she hid her smile with her hand, and shook her head with contained laughter. Thankfully, my father either did not, or at least pretended not to notice. To this day I am not sure whether he knew, considering that if I knew the man at all he would have given me a lecture on why I should not have done that, despite the trying times.

Content, and brimming with cunning skills and amusement over her reaction, I walked out of the hospital, and decided I would be able to work best at home. Yesterday had been a very long day, but not long enough for me to forget to save the work I had done for Bella on my computer. Our work was already completed. I went home that day, inspected my car to find it free from even the most insignificant knick, and as I re-adjusted the rear-view mirror I looked at my reflection for the first time in who knew how long.

A different person was looking back at me. Not a man, not a child, not a person in between but rather a mixture of both. The strength of a man to help his friend in need, the immaturity of a child to put his own well being at risk when the one he sacrificed his well being for was already on the road to recovery. Laughing briefly at myself, I finished fiddling with the mirror and told my mother that I was going to Jasper's house.

It had been too long since I paid my best friend a visit, or event he courtesy of a phone call. Reminding me of another situation I had recently remedied, I quickly drove the familiar route to the Whitlock house. Not wanting to burden them by simply showing up at their door, I dialed Jasper's number.

"Hello?"

"Hey Jazz."

"Edward! Good to hear you."

"Same here. You busy? I was just driving around and wondered if you would mind me stopping by."

"Yeah, come on by. I don't have much of a life apparently, me being at home on a Saturday..."

"Well, now you have plans. I'll be by in a minute."

As I reached his door, I knocked twice before an immediate answer.

"Edward!" He replied in the same tone. "Wow, you look..." he began, searching for the right words. "clean."

"Thanks, so do you." I replied, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder as I walked inside. It all was piecing itself back together, almost fitting too closely together. I had forgotten about the fact that I had not admitted to Bella how I had changed my appearance, cowardly as it was. Still, I felt like that was something that was not needed to be shared, at least at the given moment.

What was important at that time was getting my life back together the way that it was, or at least, how I envisioned it being. It had never been easy, but perhaps now it could be a bit easier. It sure as hell couldn't be worse than the last week I had endured, but I had endured it. We all had. If we could overcome this, we could overcome anything. Couldn't we?

* * *

"We didn't."


End file.
